Frozen in place he saw three bodies laying unconcious on the cold alleyway, bloodied and bruised. He had done that to them. He didn't mean it though; the rage and frustration that he had build up within him made him attack the three males that were mocking him. Sure, he was a mediocre boxer, but he was still stronger and more agile than the average person, a detail many brushed off. And so, he stood there, shocked at his own actions. When he finally snapped to reality, he shakingly pulled his phone from his back-pocket and called an ambulance anonymusly . He then realized something; he was covered in their blood and his knuckles were bruised. Picking up his duffel bag, he ran to his aparment, making sure to take the less populated of routes to get there so no one would notice the state he was in.
Hyperventilating, he entered through the back door which led to a long flight of stairs. As quickly as he could, he reached the third floor and checked the hall. When he saw none, he hurried to open the door of his home. As soon as he locked the door behind him, he slid down to the floor. Millions of thoughts plagued his mind, making feel sick to his stomach. He broke the most important rule that all athletes follow by heart: "Do not use your physical strenght to harm others in a day-to-day basis." Yet there he was, hiding from his crime as guilt slowly consumed him.
Regaining the movement of his limbs, he stood up, heading directly to the bathroom. He turned on the faucet on his bathtub, pondering on what he should do next. He couldn't ran away forever, that was certain. Yet, only one solution came to mind; quitting. Quitting his passion for boxing and his liberty, it was the price he needed to pay for his felony. He stopped the flow of the water at the right volume and stripped down. He submerged himself in the warm water, sighing outloud as he felt all of his tense, strained muscles relaxing. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his cellphone, sticking out of the back-pocket of his pants. The red head figured that it wouldn't hurt call someone to confess his misdeeds to them. And he knew exactly who to call as he picked up the device and marked the numbers on the screen. It rang for awhile until a familiar voice answered.
"Hallo?"
"Bonjour, Monsieur Kaiser..."
"Ah, Herr Joe. It's rather late for a call."
"I know, but I wanted to tell you something important..."
"Alright, what is it?"
"It wasn't an easy decision. You'll be the only person to know first hand about this choice I'm making, since you're more than a working companion to me. I have always respected your determination, even when you went through a traumatic phase and you have always treated me like you're equal, not like the patethic boxer that I turned out to be. Vous êtes un véritable ami."
"Geoffroi, what are you trying to say?..."
"I'm quitting boxing."
"WAS?! Weshalb?!"
"You're probably asking me why, but I'm afraid I can't tell you right away. I feel ashamed of myself and I don't deserve to represent my nation any longer. Tomorrow morning I'm going to the Association tomorrow to formally retire. Bonne nuit, Viktor.
"Wait! Don't you dare hang up on/"
It was too late, he had already made up his mind. Turning off the phone, he continued to clean himself up. There would be no point in sleeping, nor eating; his body would just refuse them. He just needed to wait until sunrise.